His mother had warned him they'd be flooing to Sirius's first. He waits for the tumble that he distinctly remembers floo travel being notorious for, but his Mum holds him tight against her and saves him from falling.

Sirius' is there, a silly smile plastered on his face, as always. "Don't you look handsome," he exclaims, grabbing him from his mother's arms and looking him up and down. His mother flicks her wand and the dust vanishes from both of their clothing. She steps to the side and a moment later Emma and Harry come through.

"How do we get to the Ministry from here?" Devlin asks softly. He's not sure why they hadn't left from the Potter residence itself, but Devlin rather thinks it has a limited floo network connection and definitely has anti-apparition wards in place.

"The security is such that we'll be using apparation to get close by and then walking the rest of the way. We'll have to put concealment charms on our clothing to make it appear more Muggle-friendly." Devlin frowns at the last part. He knows Muggles aren't bad, but he can't help but feel a niggling sense of unease whenever he must be around them, which was rarely. Grandfather had told him stories about Muggles…

.OoO

They apparated to a small alleyway, which looked curiously clean today and quickly began walking. Devlin didn't miss that both Harry and Alex walked with their fingers ready to grab their wands from the holsters up their sleeves. Their eyes are scanning, roaming, and analyzing everything. Devlin is familiar with the process and immediately he finds himself doing the same, following the months and months of training protocol. You have no excuse for losing focus, one of his trainers had once said. If you forget, you will pay the price. If you don't notice – it will hurt. Devlin wishes Dumbledore had returned his wand.

They walk along the Muggle street and Devlin finds himself grabbing hold of Emma's hand, pulling her next to him. She looks sideways at him, clearly not distressed in the least. He can't bring himself to tell her she should be. They come to phone booth…

.OoO

When they are transported into the Ministry, Devlin sees his mother and father at last relax. The Atrium has been transformed into a Ballroom and Devlin marvel's at its beauty. The ceiling stretches high above their heads, beautiful and awe-inspiring and Devlin simply gawks at it, before he remembers that he's at the Ministry in public and quickly schools his features. His Grandfather would have been so disappointed. 'I thought you better than that', he would have said.

Devlin looks straight ahead and when a man comes over to his father, he stands perfectly still at his father's side, a pleasant regard on his face. The man's son is with him as well, but his face is broken with a smile, a childish smile. He wonders briefly if he was ever able to smile like that.

"'ello," the boy says, extending his hand towards him. He has dirty blonde hair and pale brown eyes and such a boyish look about him that Devlin thinks he must be Emma's age, except he's far larger than Emma. He takes the boys hand, lest he appear ill-mannered. "My Da says we'll be first-years together, at Hogwarts. My names Thomas, but you can call me Tom, everyone does."

"My name is, Devlin, Thomas." He doesn't think he can stand to call anyone Tom. The name as an etched meaning in his mind that will never leave and never be connectable with someone else. His mind whispers: It will hurt if you say that name. The boy frowns at his choice of name, but doesn't comment. He has an edgy look to his regard now, though. Devlin recognizes it: weariness. The boy is worried about him and that worry is tinted with the first hints of fear. He imagines he has one of those glowing signs, like the ones they passed outside, hanging above him: Devlin Potter, Harry Potter's son: spent four years with Voldemort. If only they knew, but his Grandfather had always made it clear that Alexandra Potter did not like to flaunt their relation.

"I've got an older sister, she's in Ravenclaw," the boy says, as his father continues to talk to Harry and Alex. They're discussing the security parameters. Even though Thomas's father is dressed in similar dress robes, he is still wearing the Auror pin, meaning he's on duty. "What house do you think you'll be in? I want to be in Gryffindor!"

Devlin looks back at the boy, who he'd only partly been listening to, and frowns. He's heard all about the houses, of course, but only from Death Eaters. Still, he is pretty sure what house he'll be sorted into and it hasn't got anything to do with is 'want'. Because he's not a Pureblood and by then, his Grandfather may very well hate him. "Slytherin." The boy visible recoiled.

"That's the house most of He-who-must-not-be named guys come from," the boy says slowly. By then they have their parent's attention and Devlin is quickly losing his bravery.

"I didn't say it was the house I'd pick. I don't ask for what I won't get. You don't get to pick," And he turns to his mother, away from the boy. "Where do we get to sit, mother?"

A bit awkwardly, Alex leads him and Emma to their seats, while Harry lags behind, finishing his discussion. Devlin watches him from their seats. There are five other chairs around the table, but they are still empty. When Harry is done talking he ruffles Thomas's hair and Devlin feels a surge of jealousy – Harry still dare not treat him with such ease. As Dubhán it would have been fine for him to want to lash out at the boy in his jealousy, for he was clearly not above him, but he knows as Harry Potter's son that would be far from encouraged, so he stops such thoughts into the ground of his mind.

"Who is sitting with us, Mummy?" Emma asks, unaware of Harry's approach because she hasn't been watching him like a hawk. The closer Harry gets, the more his frown increases. He pauses a yard or so away, looking at Devlin. He conceals his features before Harry can decipher the hurt expression he knows must be playing across his face.

"Well, Ron and Hermione will be here, and besides them? The little paper says that the Watson's will be here. You remember the Watson's right Emma? They have a little – well not so little anymore – girl." Emma is nodding and humming in a positive fashion and Devlin tears his eyes away from Harry and to the tabletop. As Harry seats himself next to him, so that he and Emma are between Alex and Harry, he doesn't breathe a word about Devlin watching him. Devlin allows himself to relax, just a bit.

I feel like Dubhán.

More and more people arrive. They must have been early. He thinks his father must be on duty (perhaps he's never truly off duty) because people with badges keep coming over to him and asking him questions or reporting things to him. Once in a while he'll get up and walk off with them, and Devlin always watches him.

Ron and Hermione arrive at last and Ron is wearing a badge. He drops Hermione off at the table and goes off to talk to another man with his badge. Hermione and his Mum talk about things that don't interest Devlin at all. The kind of things that Emma likes to pretend she knows about it. The fact that all three of them are interested in it at the same time, should be enough to let Devlin know he shouldn't bother to listen.

"When do you think Daddy will be back? He promised he'd take me dancing, Mum." Devlin let's Emma's petulant voice crawl into his brain. Alexandra laughs softly.

Then all at once her laughter stops and she is saying hello and Devlin whips his head around, hoping this signals a change in topic so he can stop blocking out talk about dresses and hair and necklaces and whether they could use a sticking charm on Harry's hair.

The Watson's must be coming. At least, Devlin figures it's the Watson's since there is a young man talking to his Mum and a young lady and a girl approaching behind him. Three people for three empty chairs. The man has a badge, which means he's likely to leave the table soon. Which means it will be more girls. He's starting to understand some of the Death Eater and the ways they talked about their wives.

The girl is following her mother, looking at her feet as she walks. Devlin frowns. Something about the top of her head seems so familiar. He feels his nerves ignite and shivers. It must just be that she has red hair… he forces his nerves to calm down and forgets the sense of familiarity until the food has been served and she finally stops fiddling with her food. By that time Ron, her father, and his father are back at the table. Both of them realize the horrible truth at the same time. She gives a little yelp and her blue eyes fly to the tabletop again.

Emma is begging Harry to take her dancing, but he's avidly avoiding the job. Devlin grabs her hand. "Come on, Emma. Let's dance," he says firmly and drags her off her chair and onto the dancing floor. He can feel Harry's eyes upon them. No doubt it made both his parent's nervous to have them out of reach.

He twirls Emma and slowly chants the steps 'one, two, one, two' with her over and over. She is giggling, grinning from ear to ear, but he has eyes only for the table. The girl is tugging at her Mum's dress. Devlin knows she must be telling them everything. He stays dancing with Emma as long as she will let him. "One more," he whispers and he tries to ignore the pleading in his voice.

"I'm tired," she says softly, pouting. So he sends her back to the table and dashes into the crowd. He knows if he goes back they'll know everything…

He races through the crowd, throwing his arms wide to cut through the many dancing couples, until he reaches a quieter place and cowers behind a statue. It is here that the voice finds him.

"Why hello, Dubhán," it says, and Devlin would know it anywhere. Afterall, it is the man who kidnapped him in the first place; the man who had failed his Master once, the night that Devlin had be bitten, and begged for a second opportunity to please his Master and succeeded. Draco Malfoy. "How are you doing, hmmm?"

Devlin feels his mind panicking and quickly reels it in. This man can perform Legilimenecy. He builds that comforting wall around his important thoughts, imagining the un-ending wind that will protect him.

He lets his eyes dart around, looking for his father or mother.

"Take me back?" He pleads, because he knows saying anything else would be deadly. He has to play this part. He already knows it's safe – the security tonight won't let Draco Portkey or Apparate him away and Draco would be stopped at the exit if he had him in tow.

"There are wards that would prevent that…" Says Draco, frowning at him and putting a hand on his shoulder. His other hand slips something in his pocket, but Devlin knows better than to draw attention to the act. "Having that bad of a time? Your Grandfather was starting to worry." He inches closer to Malfoy.

"Didn't he get my letter? I tried to get that boy to send his father a letter. Professor Snape brews my potions and I tried to tell Grandfather I'd be coming to Hogwarts again. I told the boy to write that!" He tries to forget the pain the boys father will probably be in tonight for his son's false failings.

"I'll pass that on," he says and glides away. Devlin looks after him and misses his father's approach, which Malfoy surely hadn't.

Devlin will tell his father they have to be more careful on their trips to Hogwarts, but he won't do that now. He's sure his father is going to be furious with him. Sure she's told them everything. Sure he's in so much trouble. Sure his father has seen how worthless he is and will want him to be sent back. But he promised he'd love you not matter what…

"Devlin, what's wrong?" He asks when he's within in arm's length. He gathers him up, pulling him against him. His heart is beating quickly and his breath is quick. Devlin realizes he's been running. "You gave everyone quite the scare. Ron and David are still looking for you. You Mum is with Emma, probably pulling her hair out. Why would you run off like that?"

So the girl hadn't told them anything. Devlin feels a little of his self resolve crumble in his relief. All of a sudden his breath is hitching and he knows, if doesn't get himself under control, he'll start crying. In public. Where Malfoy might see him. It's bad enough he hasn't pushed Harry away – Malfoy will report that, he's sure.

"One of them…one of them is here," he says softly, entirely the truth, even if it wasn't what was fueling his fear. He can feel his father's body go rigid.

"They can't hurt you. We'll walk back to the table and your mother will take Emma and you home." He says firmly, grasping his hand in a death grip and dragging him along.

"Are…will..you be coming home too?" He stops for a moment and peers down.

"I have to work, Devlin. I have to be here, but you don't. I don't want you here if any of them are here."

"But they can't hurt me, you said so," Devlin says, feeling a niggling of guilt at his half-lie. Now his father will think him weak and easily cowed. "I don't want to go home if you're staying here," in truth he'd like to leave and leave behind the girl and the possibility she will speak the truth, but he also knows this is weak of him so very weak and he doesn't want to be weak.

Harry bends down so they're at eye level.

"I want you to be safe, Devlin. That's the most important thing. I can take care of myself."

"So can I," he seethes, anger welling up from his belly. How can his father think he's incapable of taking care of himself? Harry shakes his head and begins dragging him again, until his mother is within eyesight and she comes rushing forward.

"He says one of them is here," Harry whispers furiously at her. "He wants to stay but…"

"If you stay, Devlin, it's at the table," his Mum says, turning towards him. Not acting like he's an incapable infant. He nods.

"I will, I promise." And he swallows away the acid rising in his throat as he sees the girl, her head still bent, at the table.

For the rest of the night he listens to talk about dresses and hair but now it sounds like a not quite good concealment for the uneasiness felt around the table. The girl and he look once or twice at each other, but never speak.

He thoughts never stop, however, and he closes his eyes frequently against the memory of brilliant blue eyes and innocent screams.

I hope, as always, that you liked the chapter (and the story as a whole so far). I'm done asking for reviews in my long winded way - you will either review or you won't. I hope that you will, of course, but know I cannot make you. I will always update regardless of reviews, but reviews do motivate me and as this story gets longer and more complex, I'll need the motivation to keep posting. So – you decide. And don't think 'oh, the next person will review so I don't need to' because that's what the next person will think too.

In the very near future: more about the girl with brilliant blue eyes, maybe an appearance from Severus Snape, probably another, more detailed nightmare, etc.